When my mother really began to feel her age (this is after my father/her husband died), my two brothers and I would take turns to visit her, to see how she was doing.

In WWII she installed all the electrics in B-29's. She learned to fly. She became a stewardess for United after the war, met my Dad (who worked for BOAC) on a layover, they got married 6 weeks later in New York. She became a mum, and they were posted to Bahrain and then India. Finally mum got tired of foreign lands and insisted the family settle down and stay put.
She started working again at 48 (I was 8). She designed the addition to our house. She learned to drive at 56. She learned to ski at 64. After my Dad died she mucked-out and groomed his horse every other day (that's hard work!). She made costumes for the local theater group and rented them out for fancy dress parties.

Arthritis hit her hard.The she just weakened over about 2 years--she could feel the change all too well, and we could see it. She was surely dying, and she hated her increasing decrepitude, which made her difficult to deal with at times.

One day friends found her incapacitated at home. She was rushed to an ICU and spent a week in that. We (her sons) rushed to her hospital bed. She died about 6 weeks later,in hospital, in 2004, age 83.

She had her own room at the hospital because she was prone to infection in her condition. However she could hear the birds outside in one of the garden courtyards that the wards were all built-around, and she was visited regularly by friends. Visiting hours were 7am to 10 pm.

Mum was bed ridden, could hardly move, but her mind was still tack-sharp. A priest was ushered in one day as part of the 'general service' to provide 'comfort'. He was about 40 years old. My mother was not comforted by his words, but amused:
"You're half my age, and a Catholic priest" she said. "What the hell you can tell me about life and death that I don't already know?".

We joked about times past but also dealt with the necessary legal and financial details of her impending demise. And facing mortality she said "the one last thing I really want before I go, is a gin-and-tonic, and I'll be satisfied".

I privately asked one of the nurses about that, not knowing what the medical (and legal) consequences might be if I respected my mother's wish. "Just don't leave me with the empties" said the nurse.

So mum got several gin and tonics over the next couple of days, and then told us she was satisfied. "I'll tell the doctor to pull the plug tonight" she said (she was on a couple of tubes, nothing dramatic, but still essential for life).

We had another private word with her nurse as we left, again not sure of things. The nurse just said "If you are all okay with it and the doctor is okay with it and she's okay with it, I'll give her a nice 'cocktail' to see her off with. It will be a shame because she's so much fun, but like she said herself, she's had enough."

About 9 am the next day we got 'the call'. We went to the hospital. She was always a slight woman but she looked so tiny. Her hands were across her chest, holding a rose from the hospital garden.

All this took place over a month. My brothers and I hadn't worked for a month. One was 'hurting' and two of us were actually broke (I was now in debt on my rent).

Cost of the ICU? Zero
Cost of five weeks in a private hospital room? Zero
Cost of all the drugs for my mother? Zero
Cost of the funeral/cremation/limo? About $900, already paid-for.
Paperwork? One death certificate, one letter to lawyer.
Legal challenges over my mother's "suicide" or the hospitals 'cocktail? Zero.

In case you didn't guess already, none of this happened in the US. My mother died in England, where the family had finally settled and where I was born, at home, under the care of a midwife and doctor who also cost NOTHING--beyond the regular automatic pittance paid into the National Health Service.

I'm sorry. I mis-read your comment. Forgive me. I'm still a little shook up over this whole thing. I would freak out if my dog was missing so I can't imagine how a mom feels when her baby is gone.